Heartbeat
by Bakanokabe
Summary: Cassarric drabbles&one shots
1. Heartbeat

They fell in love in-between heartbeats, in the moments closest to their demise; when she was almost burnt to death in dragon's fire; when he dropped his crossbow after being hit and was left with no means of defense.

Her gaze follows him when he runs to grab Bianca; he shouts "Seeker!" when she falls to the ground, and relieve washes over him when she raises, her hand gripping her sword with confidence.

The reality catches up to them as their hearts start beating again; when she clenches her jaw and looks away from him; when he checks carefully if anyone else saw him panicking.

They both move on and keep on pretending.


	2. Hope

**Hope**

"Seeker?" Varric couldn't believe his own eyes; they were in separate cells for months, and he honestly thought she would be dead by now.

"Hello, Varric." Damn, her voice was weak. He couldn't expect anything else, since they were feeding them red lyrium; still, his heart clutched when he saw her like this. Judging by Inquisitor and Tevinter's faces, he didn't look much better himself.

Inquisitor took a minute to fill him in on the plan. As reassuring as it was to see him alive and well after all this time, the plan sounded impossible.

"So, you two are going to change _time_?" Varric asked and the Inquisitor enthusiastically nodded. "None of this will happen?"

"Not a thing." Confirmed Tevinter (Dorian, was that his name? Varric wasn't sure.)

"And what do you think about it, Seeker?" Varric turned to Cassandra.

"If there is even a slightest possibility…" He knew immediately what she meant. If the Inquisitor's plan succeeded, it would mean no torture or suffering for them both.

Maybe, if he would have more time, if he was given one more chance… He looked at Cassandra again and nodded.

"Let's go."

Finally, after hours of struggle, they reached Alexius's chamber. They volunteered to get on the front line; to get Inquisitor and Dorian enough time to come back to the world they left.

To stop this nightmare from happening.

Varric was loading Bianca with shaking hands. Shit. He was so afraid. Even though he knew he was practically dead already; even knowing that if the plan will go well it'll all go back to normal, facing death in such a raw, ruthless form was nearly unbearable.

He almost jumped when he felt Cassandra's hand on his shoulder. She said nothing; the gesture itself was enough. He smiled at her, weakly. When they first met, he couldn't imagine that they would ever feel something other than hate for each other, but the time in Inquisition, and then in the imprisonment had proven him otherwise. The feelings were changing, slowly, from hate to tolerance, partnership, friendship…

Love.

Varric had a lot of time to think about his feelings in his cell, but he could only hope that the guy that was him in the other time, would figure it out somehow.

"I hear them coming." He heard Cassandra's voice. He turned towards her.

"Seeker." He said, quietly. "I need to tell you something."

"This is not the time…" Cassandra started, but Varric cut her off.

"Cassandra. This is all the time we have left." He drew a shaky breath. He could hear them too, and he needed to tell her this now. There will be another time and place; he wanted, needed to believe it, but he won't be the same man as he is in this very moment.

"I love you." He saw Cassandra's eyes widening in surprise. "I hope…" his voice croaked "…I can tell you this again. I hope…"

She cut him off with a rushed kiss and smiled at him.

"Make sure to tell it again, then." She said, as she raised her sword. Was that tears in her eyes?

"I will." He promised.

When the world fell apart, and he could not see her breath anymore, he continued to hope, as he descended into the darkness.


	3. Hawke, please

**Hawke, please**

Summary: Hawke is smug, Dorian laughs, Cassandra is not sure what's going on and Varric's patience is wearing thin.

"Ooooh! So you're the Seeker! You're just as tall as Varric described you!" Hawke was smiling widely at Cassandra. She stood on her toes, trying to compare their height. Since she came to Skyhold, she's been hanging out with absolutely everyone, even Leliana. And now she got to Cassandra, interrupting her training.

Cassandra was, so to speak, overwhelmed.

"Really, I thought he was exeggarating. He has… a different perspective." Hawke grinned again, and looked at her mischievously. "You know, because of his height?"

"I can imagine that." Cassandra managed to reply before Hawke would ask her another question. The next sentence rolled of her tongue before she even thought about it.

"You're taller than I imagined." Hawke blinked at her in silence for a few seconds, and then laughed.

"I need to tell Varric to descript me as more intimidating, honestly. Have you read Tale of the Champion? It's so…"

"Hawke, Cassandra!" Suddenly, a male voice interrupted them. It was Dorian, with a bottle of wine in his hand. "Good I've found you. Varric, Inquisitor and me are setting up a little game of Wicked Grace. You're invited as well." He sighed. "Unfortunately, Commander Cullen won't be joining us today. He claims he has duties, but well, after his last utter defeat, can we really blame him?"

Wicked Grace. It wasn't Cassandra's favourite game in the world. Truth be told, she just couldn't remember the rules and ended up confused every time; despite Varric's honest effort trying to teach her to how to play. But even she had to admit that it wasn't so much about the game as it was about spending some time together.

And, as it often happened, with considerable amount of alcohol.

"Of course we'll be there!" exclaimed Hawke. "Right, Cassandra?"

Cassandra closed her eyes and sighed.

"Of course."

Four hours and at least a dozen bottles of wine later, almost everybody got as talkative as Hawke. Well, except for Sera who was always first to get drunk; she fell asleep. Hawke was currently telling some over the top story about defeating a dragon. It sounded even more ridiculous than Varric's stories, but knowing them, it could have been the truth.

There was very little of an actual game going on, and Cassandra wondered if anybody would notice if she would just quietly disappear, but before she managed to put her plan into action, Hawke got to her. Again.

"Cass!" She almost shouted. "I'v' a request!

"Yes, Hawke?" asked Cassandra in the most polite tone she could muster at the moment.

"I don't thin' Varric's well. Can you get 'im to 'is room?" Hawke's words were a little slurred, but still understandable. Cassandra, on the other hand, was probably the most sober person in the room at the moment.

"Can't you ask someone who he doesn't hate?" She could barely deal with sober Varric, and it was probably much worse when he was drunk. She could already imagine the amount of insults she would have had to endure.

Hawke looked surprised.

"But he doesn't hate you!" protested Hawke, looking a little concerned. "He always writes 'bout you."

It had to been Cassandra's bad day, since Dorian appeared out of nowhere, with a sly smile on his lips.

"Oh really?" He asked. "And pray tell, what does he write exactly?"

"A lot of things! Seeker this, Seeker that, he never really shuts up about you." Hawke was blubbering joyfully, perhaps not seeing Cassandra's expression of utter confusion.

"I knew it!" Dorian laughed.

"Hawke, please." Another voice joined the conversation. It was Varric. He sat on the chair, and only now did Cassandra notice that he looked really miserable. He wasn't even drinking anymore, just stared at the distance.

"Sorry!" Hawke looked at Cassandra again. "Could you?"

They didn't leave her much choice, so she stood up and helped Varric to get on his feet. Silently they left the party and slowly made it to his room. She opened the door and sat him down on his bed. _He should be alright on his own now_ , Cassandra thought. But as she turned around, ready to leave, she heard Varric's voice yet again.

"Bianca…" he whispered. Cassandra glanced at the crossbow, but somehow she didn't think this was about it. Maybe he was talking about the woman that bore that name? _The one story I can never tell_ , he said. It shouldn't matter to her. She should leave, right there and then, but he looked so vulnerable and hurt.

He won't remember this in the morning anyway.

"I'm sorry Varric. It's only me." She spoke softly. "You should lie down. "

Varric did as he was told. His breathing was uneven and shallow; she wondered if she should get a healer to look at him. But when she looked at the door, he grabbed her hand.

"Stay." A silent plea. He looked almost afraid now, like a different person. His hand was cold and sweaty, and so was his forehead.

It was painful to look at him at his current state.

"It's alright." She said, crouching next to his bed. "I'm here." The reassurance was brief, but it was enough. The crouching got tiring, so she sat on the floor, still holding his hand. After a few minutes, his breathing evened out and his skin got warmer. When his eyes finally closed and his grip weakend, Cassandra knew he was asleep.

 _But it can't hurt to stay just a while longer_ , she argued with herself, _to see if he'll be alright._

She left only when she caught herself smiling at how peaceful he looked.


	4. In Need, part 1

**In Need**

Working in Starbucks was terrible. It was even more terrible when you were the shortest barista in all of Thedas and needed a box to stand on to even see the clients, never mind making coffee.

And, to add insult to injury, there was his boss. Not Lavellan, no; she was constantly somewhere else, doing something (probably) important. When he thought about his boss, it was the manager that popped up in his mind. She was tall, Nevarran, and he was pretty convinced that she gained pleasure from bossing him around the place like it was some goddamn McDonald's.

Cassandra-a-whole-lot-of-names-Pentaghast.

He heard somewhere that she has so many names because she is one of the descendants of Nevarra's royal family, but how the heck would such a person find herself in a Starbucks in Ferelden?

Well, never mind. It's not like he is going to ask her.

He looked at the clock. Another half an hour and they can close the shop; and he convinced Sparkler to do him a favor and do the cleaning in his place. That way, he would have a little more time to write.

Or, as he was doing it for the past three months, stare blankly at the computer screen and pretending that his actually writing something.

"Varric!" He flinched at the sound of his name in all-too-familiar accent. He turned his head; it was, of course, Cassandra, glancing at him mercilessly. He counted all of his sins, but he had a good shift today; even customers seemed to be nicer.

"Yes, Seeker?" She hated the nickname he gave her, and he could see her jaw clench. Immediately he could see it was a bad move, something has obviously pissed her off.

He could've called her manager, well, too late for that now.

"The dishes aren't going to wash themselves, Varric." Cassandra said.

"I figured that much." Varric grumbled. But he could never stop when he needed too; especially not when it came to Cassandra. "You know it's not that hard. Turning the dishwasher on, I mean. I'm sure you would get it right. Give it a try someday."

"Don't cross me today, dwarf. Do your job." With those words she left. Probably to pester someone else, Varric thought as he made his way to the dishwasher.

Soon. Soon he will finish his shift and go home, and maybe someday he will have enough money to just give it up and just write, as he always wanted. But for now, he needed money. He needed it desperately.

Half an hour later he took his coat, and checking if Cassandra isn't anywhere near the exit, he left the shop. She lived in his neighborhood, so there was still a chance she can see him somewhere, but Varric was so experienced in evading her, it was embarrassing.

He went outside, and it was already getting dark. Winter was too come soon; Varric sighted, already thinking about all the snow he will have to endure. Dwarfs weren't built for cold temperatures. Or for warm temperatures. Or for outdoors, for that matter.

He made his way down the street and turned left, entering a small alley. It wasn't a shortest way home, but it was the safest, and he needed to pass the main road only once. There was a lot of accidents there lately, and Varric always agreed with "better safe than sorry".

He almost crossed the main road when he heard a voice, calling him.

"Varric!" Shit, it was the Seeker. Varric turned around and saw that he was trying to catch up to him, but before she did…

A car suddenly appeared from a one-way road and hit her.

Varric didn't even have time to blink. Some women on the other side of the road screamed in terror, and the car was long gone.

Fucking hit-and-run. Varric's body finally caught up to his brain and he run towards Cassandra, now appearing lifeless on the ground.

He didn't remember much of it after. He knows he must've called 911, he must've checked if she was breathing, but in his memory it was all hazed and uncertain. The ambulance appeared quickly and they took her, first asking him if he was her kin; he could only shake his head in reply.

After they took her, he saw a shining object on the ground. Did Seeker drop it? He couldn't remember. But after he walked up to inspect it, he felt a cold shiver running through him.

It was his phone.

He picked it up. It was still working. Did he forget to take it from work? If she was trying to give it back to him then…

Varric swallowed, guilt washing over him. Fuck. It was all his fault. But before he could think about it, the police came. Two men got out of the car and started to ask questions, searching for witnesses. When the approached him, he tried to describe the accident as accurately as he could, but it was hard. For a moment, he wasn't even sure what color was the car he saw. He also told them all he knew about Caassandra.

"So you're acquainted with the victim?" Asked one of the officers.

"Yeah, she works with me." Varric confirmed.

"Thank you, sir, that would be all. If we will need to question you again, you will be notified." After that, they moved on to another witness.

Suddenly, he was left with nothing to do and was just… standing there. The weight of what happened just minutes ago hit him. What happened to Cassandra? How bad were her injuries? What hospital was she taken to? He did not know answer to any of those questions.

It was killing him. He felt the need to do something. He decided to go home and call Josephine and Cullen on the way. As far as he knew, they were her best friends. Well, there was also Leliana, but he didn't have her phone number. And, of course, he'll need to call Lavellan.

And the day has gone to shit, thought Varric as he dialed Curly's phone number.

As it turned out, Cassandra's injuries were serious, but not fatal. She had a broken arm, leg and a few ribs, and was therefore unable to move for a while. Varric heard she also had internal bleeding, but the doctor's were able to fix that.

She hasn't even woken up from an induced coma yet, when they came to visit her. It was even worse, Varric thought, as the phone-the reason that she was on that street in the first place-was getting heavier and heavier in his pocket.

They were never friends, but Varric never wished for anything bad to happen to her. Now she was going to be in pain and it was his fault.

His heart clutched.

"Guys, I think she's waking up." Said Lavellan suddenly.

Immediately, all the people in the room gathered around the bed. Varric also, reluctantly, came closer. It looked like Lavellan was right; Cassandra slowly opened her eyes and blinked a few times. She tried to speak, but her voice was dry.

"We need to tell the doctor." Josephine said.

"I'll go." Varric volunteered quickly, thankful for a chance to get out of the room. "Good to see you're holding up, See-, I mean, Cassandra. I hope you'll get better soon."

"Wait-"Josephine started, but he was already out the door. He found the doctor, told him that Cassandra woke up, and left the hospital as soon as he could.

He should've known he was being too suspicious.

Two weeks later, when he casually served some customers coffee, Dorian appeared out of nowhere.

"So" He started."What's the deal with you and Cassandra, hmm?"

"There is no _deal_ Sparkler, so bug off."

"Oh really" Dorian smirked. "So it wouldn't be a problem for you to give this…" he shook the bag he held in his hand. "…to Cassandra after work, right?"

"Can't you do it, Sparkler? I'm busy." Varric tried to shrug him off.

"With what, exactly? Not with writing, that's for sure." Varric wanted to argue with him, but he knew he was right. "Come on, help me a little. I have a date tonight."

Varric sighed. He wanted to apologize to Cassandra, but he wasn't sure he could do it. But anyway, he can't evade her for the rest of his life, can he?

"Alright, I'll go." He knew he was going to regret it. "What's in it anyway?"

Dorian shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Lavellan told me to deliver it, so it's probably some food. Or elven medicine. Or both."

Varric said nothing in reply, taking care of customers instead.

After a few hours, he was standing in front of doors to Cassandra's room in hospital. He was right. He did regret it.

There was no way back now. Varric raised his fist and knocked at the door.

"Yes?" He heard Cassandra's voice, so he opened the door. She was lying on the bed, but she was wide awake. Well, Varric thought, no one is able to recover from a car accident that fast, even the Seeker. "Oh, hello Varric. Is something the matter?"

"No, I mean… Lavellan wanted us to give this to you." He came closer and put the bag next to her right, unbroken hand. She raised her head a little and tried to sit, but immediately hissed with pain, and laid back.

"Take it easy, Seeker." Varric tried not to sound too worried.

"I asked chief to bring me some necessary things from my apartment." She grumbled. "Could you help me open it?"

"Sure thing." He opened the bag. Mostly, there were clothes in it, also some sweets (because there was no way Lavellan wouldn't put sweets in there), a hairbrush and so forth. But one thing caught Varric's attention.

It was a book. A book that he knew too well, probably because he written every word in it.

Even if Varric wanted, he couldn't stop the grin that appeared on his face. Seeker read his book, possibly even more than one of his books, and she was kipping it a secret from him.

"What?" Cassandra's question brought him back to reality.

"Why, Seeker, I'm flattered. If you wanted my autograph, you could've just said so!" He teased her. Cassandra's eyes widened in surprise.

"That Lavellan…!" She hissed, trying to take the bag away from him, before lying back down with pained expression. Varric raised his both hands in a gesture of good will, but the grin did not leave his face. "Not a word, dwarf!"

"Come on, Seeker, let me have it. It's the first time I'm actually meeting someone who have read my books." Varric joked, even if it was not exactly true… mainly because his friends read his book. He never suspected that Cassandra even knew he was writing.

"Really?" She stopped glaring at him for a while, clearly interested.

"Well, Hawke read them too, but that doesn't really count. And even she didn't face both chapters of Swords&Shields." Varric said, holding Cassandra's copy in his hands. It looked worn out, like it was read many times. She actually liked this crap?

„Are you going to write more?" Cassandra asked.

"What?" Write more of his worst series? Why would he do that? But when he looked at her and the hopeful expression, well…

"Maybe. I don't know. My publisher also has a say in this, you know." He tried to excuse himself. Cassandra let out a disappointed sigh, and he felt a little bad.

"I have a little of a writer's block, right now." He shouldn't be telling her that. He did not tell what happened to some of his actual _friends_ , and this was the Seeker. She did not care.

(But he wanted her to care.)

The realization was sudden; causing Varric to stand up immediately. He shoved the book back into the bag and went to the door.

"I should go, I have a lot to do." He said to Cassandra. It came out a lot harsher than he intended too. He opened a door, stopped, for just a second, and whispered: "I'm sorry."

He couldn't hear if she replied, as he was already out on the corridor.

"Damn, it got really complicated really fast. " He told himself as he went back home.


	5. Irony

The next part of "In Need" will be written soon. I hope.

 **Irony**

His breathing was uneven, shaky and raspy. Templar's sword hit him by surprise, when he was reloading Bianca; cut through his side. He gripped it in shock; the wound was deep.

World became blurred. Pain thrown him of his feet and left him lying on the ground, helpless. This was a moment someone will most likely finish him off, wasn't it?

Then Cassandra jumped in, promptly hitting the templar with his sword. Of course; he was with her and the others, they won't let him die.

She must've finished him off 'cause she made him sit and shove a potion in his hand.

"Drink." A short, simple order, so befitting of her. "You do not have to be afraid, it is not poison." She added after he looked at it.

He snorted, and immediately hissed in pain.

"What?" Cassandra asked, but she had to wait after he finished drinking for an answer.

"First you nearly killed me, now you're saving my life. You have to appreciate the irony here, Seeker."

Cassandra grunted. "You're impossible, dwarf." But there was no spite in her words. "But I'm not quite finished with you yet. And Inquisition needs you too. So I'll keep you alive for a little bit longer." Her tone of voice was still the same, but her eyes sparkled with humor.

"I'll hold you to that."


	6. Writer's Soul

At, first, she was getting to know the real him only through his books. The words, mingled and distorted were showing her the man behind the lies and jokes. She could see his true self- and it was afraid.

Perhaps he had been broken too many times.

It required her to change as well, but slowly, he begun to exposing this other side of him too. Sometimes it was just a look or a gentle touch- but it was there, and she was happy with these small blessings.

In time, the discord between them faded, and hesitant friendship took its place; their conversations had a deeper layer know, and again, she could learn more about him.

Sometimes she wondered, looking at his crossbow, if he could be hers to discover, truly. But his warms smile had a promise in it- and she dared to hope.

Cassandra closed the book with a sigh, unsure if their story leads to happy ending too.


	7. Over a cup of tea

Varric stood by the window, breathing in the cold, morning air. The sun was rising slowly, casting light of a new day on Kirkwall streets and houses; slowly waking up the city.

It changed for the better, since the old days. Hawke and Daisy always claimed it was his doing, but he preferred to believe that it was the inner strength of its people that made it all possible.

Varric tucked his gray hair behind his ear and put a pair of glasses on his nose. Even though he left most of the work to his younger, more able subordinates, there were still things he insisted on doing himself.

"Will you join me for a cup of tea, my love?" He turned around to see Cassandra, standing in a doorway to his office.

"Of course." The morning tea was one of their habits, their routine they worked out by being together for so many years now. It would feel wrong to start the day without it.

He followed Cassandra to another room, with two armchairs and a small table in one of the corners. Their tea was already prepared; giving of a pleasant smell of strong Nevarran spices and honey.

He poured tea to both cups standing on the table, and handed one to Cassandra, who had taken it with a smile on her face. They both sat in the armchairs and relaxed.

"You know," he said after a while. "I've been thinking about writing another book." Cassandra's face lit up, her eyes sparkled with excitement.

Her eyes did not change over the years, Varric noticed with nostalgia washing over him, as strong and lively as ever.

"That's wonderful, love! What is it going to be about?" she asked.

"Who knows," He smiled at her. "But it has to be good. For all we know, it might be my last-" Cassandra promptly smacked his shoulder.

"You're getting more and more dramatic with age."

"Maybe, but I feel my stories need some kind of a... closure." He got more serious now, his eyes clouded as he got lost in his thoughts.

What woke him up was Cassandra's hand, gently squeezing his own, comforting him. He interlaced their fingers, reassuring Cassandra that everything's fine.

"Anyway, I hope my number one fan will be pleased." He said jokingly.

"Always." Cassandra's voice was still serious. "I love you, Varric."

"I love you too." He took a sip from his tea and closed his eyes.

Whatever happens in the future, he was at peace.


End file.
